Little Girl Blue - 𝐖𝐋𝐖

𝐈. Pragma- TwentySeven

It was an act of gone mad. I thought she was joking. But everyday since, she climbed up on that ladder and began going over the chewed up wood with baby blue paint.

She never was the same after that night and it was exhausting to witness.

"Jane?" I peered up with my hand shading the sun from my eyes, the other was carrying her lunch. "Can you please come down now? You need to eat." She was always up and out early. She hadn't been eating, either. The few times she did it was on coffee and the occasional slice of pie.

She stopped her stroking and looked down. "If you're going to keep coming out here you might as well help."

Forcing the plate in her paint covered hands, I shook my head. "It's too hot plus I'm just making sure you don't pass out." She rolled her eyes, glancing at the sandwich. I continued with my bribing, "you don't want to take a break? We could watch a movie."

She hummed, tapping her chin that left a dab of paint behind. "I'm almost done with this panel..."

"And then?"

"And then I'll come inside and eat whatever you want." I peeked over at the side of the house. She had just started and it would likely be another two hours before she finished.

I sighed, desperate and defeated. I had to peek her interests. "You know Nicky called. He said he's on his way."

Jumping down the ladder there became a sudden urgency to her trot. "What?" The sun really was overbearing, it was fuzzing out the life in her eyes. "Why?" She panicked.

I shrugged. "Said he wanted to talk. He hasn't seen you in awhile." Though I withheld it was I who called seeking for help.

She mumbled something insolent, wiping the beads of sweat from her eyebrows. "Just give me a minute, okay?" She climbed up again, resuming the tedious tasks of whisking the brush to and fro.

I stopped trying after that. Carrying her plate back into the house, I slumped down in the half made bed. The persona that took over felt like she was hiding something, too.

And worst of all, she was quiet.

There was nothing worse than a silent woman. And her, being as analytical and opinionated as she was, it meant something was wrong. Every time she spoke it was quick and inexplicable. I was lost watching her, searching her words for sanity.

We were supposed to be trying and this summer project felt like she had quit. There was a frown on my face I knew it. The tension in my muscles grew into a headache.

"Thank god you're here." Nicky rounded the corner, hands casually tucked in his jean pockets.

"Hey kiddo," he had that small town bar smell on him—cleaner, cheap whiskey— and had a crooked smile on his boyish face. He had become my favorite of Jane's companions. "How are you doing?" Proceeding to grab one half of the sandwich, he started to walk the room.

"Good."

Furrowing his brows. "That was convincing."

I shifted around, running my fingers through the blunt ends. "She's been out there everyday and refuses to eat. She been drinking, too, I'm sure you know about that. Should I be worried?" This spark in Jane cause one in me too. I was on edge, called into work twice to make sure I could watch her.

He took a large, dramatic breath, rubbing crumbs off his knee. "Did she tell you?"

I shook my head. He's always insinuated the state of Jane's mental health, but there was never any declaration of what it was, only how we could try to manage it. "She said the medication is supposed to help the anxiety."

Seemingly stressed, "Damnit." He cursed. "Sometimes the side effects get her all fucked. Her dosage could be screwed, or maybe she's off." He thought allowed, rubbing his greasy forehead in the process. "Has she said anything?"

"Nothing."

"Did you do anything?" He asked.

I perked up. It wasn't uncommon for me to think I had a hand in Jane's unraveling. "What could I have done?"

"I don't know, something could of triggered this."

I wanted to tell him everything. The time she slept with Kaylee, her reaction to Gideon, and how genuine things were in the few moments they were.

The inside of my cheek wore down the harder I chewed on it. The desire to flee when things get hard but stay because being with her was easy, stretched my mind every which way. This was no longer a matter I could simply laugh off.

"I'm fine." From the patio Jane entered the room, sweat coated and tired. "Are you two done now?"

Nicky immediately hopped up and met her halfway. Irritated, she did her best at creating distance and carried on into the kitchen."What're you doing, Jane?"

Jane stopped at the sink. "Right now I'm getting a glass of water."

I stood against the frame watching the two exchange glares. "We just want to know if there's anything we can do." Hesitant to reply, Nicky continued. "This is the third time you've attempted this, Jane. The first time landed you in the hospital and—"

She was more so hurt Nicky said anything, in front of me of all things. When the glass slammed down I knew she reached a breaking point. "Get out of my house." She whispered.

He stood unmoved. "It's your father's house."

Tears of rage gleamed. Her fist were clenched and burning white. I quickly grabbed her, making sure she wouldn't launch at her friend.

Nicky knew his words hurt and quietly left with a quick 'call me'. I turned my attention back to Jane who was fighting back tears with her lips tucked.

I rubbed my fingers on her wrist. "Can you look at me?"

She gulped, choking on her saliva. "I c-can't." A single tear fell.

"Jane," I realized my breath had slipped away.

"Get out." She released herself from my grasp and backed away.

"Jane." Her name could hardly pass my lips.

"You should've never been here in the first place. Leave. " She spit.

I was left standing in the kitchen dumbfounded. Every thought and doubt I had was resurfacing, coming out to grab me by the neck.

She couldn't do this to me. "Jane!" I yelled, now ferocious and near tears myself. Across the room she was stuffing things into my bag.

Trying to rip my belongings from her hands, our anger caused everything that was packed away to fly about the room.

In the mist of my tears and scrambling to retrieve things, she was already at the door, kicking and throwing everything out. Jewelry, books, dresses. All of it was laying on the front porch.

Running outside, I fell to my knees, heaving in resentment at the woman before me. When I heard the bolt barrel slide, I knew something ended, or worse, began.

I felt nauseous. There was more than betrayal sitting in the bottom of my gut.

I had to walk away from the home—whosever it truly was—when halfway down the driveway, I heard Jane scream.